Competition: Micro Fiction 1

“Foolish Jedi, I'll gut you like a Tauntaun.” Spat the Sith called Vemon.

The elderly man donning brown robes kissed with black accents squinted. His silvery eyes scanned the mouthy threat and noticed that nothing about this being was remarkable or even threatening. Rowan Dragos wasn't a Blade Master in title alone. It was a moniker he had earned.

“I am no Jedi, you Twi'leki filth. If you'd like to continue testing me. I'd suggest you do it with a Lightsaber in your hand.” Rowan lowered his hood and stood ready. Maybe even a bit eager as he channeled the disrespect, the anger, and turned it into fuel for his internal engine.

Vemon growled and charged forward, a red beam of light erupted from his palm and wildly crashed down on Dragos. Yet the attack was met with a smirk as he ignited his curved hilt. An unholy white blade stretched out to catch and flick away the attack as if he were swatting bog flies. The Twi'lek growled, knocked off balance and….

Rowan slightly pivoted and before the Twi'lek could follow up, the Plaguein plunged the tip of his Lightsaber through Vemon's hilt causing it to pop into disrepair with a smooth thrust. The so-called Sith growled and dropped the smoldering hilt, shoving his palm forward as if to blast the Ronin with telekinetic force.

The energy crashed over Rowan as if he were a boulder in the middle of a river. Unmoved as his barrier redirected the flow. Reaching out with the Force himself, Dragos gripped the Twi'lek with the Force and tugged him closer. It wasn't much but it was enough as he caused him to step out of balance. Smooth footwork positioned Rowan and with a flourish, his blade sliced cleanly through Lekku and neck.

“Foolish Sith.” He disengaged his weapon and clipped the hilt back to his belt as the cocky warrior's body slumped to the side. “All bark and no bite.”